


Kiss it better

by sleepy_fl0wers



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Comfort No Hurt, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Idiots in Love, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, No Angst, Non-Graphic Violence, THEY LITERALLY PUNCH HOMOPHOBES IN THE FACE THEYRE ICONS, Tenderness, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wound treating, but theyre literally barely in there, everyone except Dream and George is only mentioned !, no beta we die like the people of l'manburg, rated teen and up for cursing and mention of wounds and homophobia, this is 2.5k words of unadultarated sweetness i promise, tw small mention of homophobia, yes you can pine in an established relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28021092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepy_fl0wers/pseuds/sleepy_fl0wers
Summary: Dream's gasping for air by the time they've stopped giggling. He leans back, and meets George's eyes, with the widest, brightest grin he only reserves for this kind of moments.There's an odd shine in them, something George has seen many, many times before. Something sweet, and fond, and so filled to the brim with adoration he can only look away before he's smiling like a smitten idiot -he already is-."He punched me… so you punched him back." He says softly, with a certain tone. A tone filled with fluffiness and breathlessness and something else George can't quite decipher, but he just knows it makes his body tingly and warm, bubbling with love. He can feel it spill out from his heart, and fill each of his limbs, wrapping around him, like a cloak."I did." He accepts proudly. "I did punch him after he punched you." He smiles. "He didn't have the right to lay a hand on you."It was something he wouldn't have done under any other circumstance. and yet he regrets nothing.Edit 28/12/2020: I decided to switch my fics over to my main account after thnking about it for a while, also, you can follow me on twitter ! i'm @ strawberrypandy there :)
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 322





	Kiss it better

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey !!! thank u so much for clicking !! i hope u enjoy this !! its really self indulgent ngl oops,,,
> 
> A SMALL WARNING THOUGH !!  
> this fic contains very light mentions of homophobia, no slurs, not even dialogue, (AND THE HOMOPHOBES GET PUNCHED HELL YEAH LETS GOOO) but still ! i would never want to accidentally make someone uncomfy, so if you're not okay with that, maybe it would be better to skip this one ! there is also no graphic description, but nonetheless a mention of wounds such as bruises and well, yknow.  
> If none of these things make u feel bad, strap in and i hope you enjoy ! cause this is just fluff so sweet its the equivalent of shoving a bunch of candy into your mouth and getting a sugar rush haha
> 
> Please, please don't shove the ship into their faces. Not because they're not uncomfortable with it it means we have to be disrespectful. Please, don't even think of sending this or mentioning this (or probably any other work of fiction of this kind, please be respectful to authors.) on any kind of comments or donos to them.
> 
> And ! the moment either of them speak about not feeling comfortable with works published about them anymore, i will gladly delete this completly ! what matters most is the cc's feelings and wishes.

"I don't know why you did that. It was idiotic."

George didn't think he would end up doing this during his Sunday afternoon.  
He just wanted to have a nice day out with Dream. To go on a cheesy, cliche picnic he pretends he hates, but deep down loves, or to walk around the park and eat frozen yogurt from that place next to campus that has that strangely delicious lychee flavor.

Simply, just to enjoy himself and have some time to breathe and exist without thinking of the pressure of finals that slowly looms over his head, worries him sick and makes his stomach churn with anxiety.  
And yet here he is, crammed in the bathroom of his empty house, soaking wet from running all the way home under the freezing rain, and treating the wounds Dream gained after getting himself into a fight with a bunch of brainless morons. 

George feels so irritated. _So much._  
"There were three of them! Three! And you punched one in the face!" He huffs. "What were you thinking!?"

"It wasn't idiotic. They were messing with you, and I wasn't gonna let them." Dream says in self defense, sitting on the counter next to the faucet as he looks down at the linoleum floor, like it's suddenly the most interesting thing in the universe. He sighs.  
A heavy sensation sets in his belly. It's uncomfortable and tense, and he doesn't appreciate it very much, as it makes him feel a wave of dread traveling up his throat.  
Everything hurts. His knuckles, littered with open blisters, his arms and wrists bruised green and yellow, and his bottom lip red, an open wound with dried blood adorning it, the corner of his mouth already turning purple with the force of a punch that was directed at him. It pulses with a burn, steady and painful.

"They were actually messing with _us,_ may I say." George corrects quickly, hand gripping a small ball of cotton drenched with alcohol, dripping down his bloodied hands.

"Look, I don't care what they say about me. I really don't," Dream argues back. "Just… they don't get to put your name in their _filthy mouths-_ "

George scoffs. He's never cared either.  
He used to. What those arseholes said and thought of him, used to make him worry, but not anymore, not with how happy he is whenever he's beside Dream, and how happy he is their friends couldn't give a damn about who he's dating.  
Even more so, they seem genuinely happy he's dating Dream out of anyone else in their school, -he still remembers Sapnap's exasperated _oh for christ's sake, finally!_ when they told him, and Bad and Skeppy getting paid 200 dollars by Karl and Quackity after losing a bet, followed by a _if you had only waited one more month…_ directed at them.- because that means they get to hang out together without having to worry about introducing someone new to their small, humble group of friends.

"I don't get it. If I don't care what they say, then why do you?"  
He grips the cotton ball harder, ridding it of any excess alcohol it may have, even if it travels down and makes his own hurt hands sting, just so when they touch Dream's knuckles they can sting and burn at him as little as possible.

He gives gentle pats, barely ghosting over the harmed skin with silent concentration, mumbling a quiet _sorry love,_ whenever Dream hisses in pain, or winces a bit too obviously.  
The whispers make warmth bloom inside Dream's chest, and occasionally, even when the cotton doesn't hurt bad against his hands, he lets out a quiet noise of complaint, just to listen to George breathe out reassurances.

Dream just chuckles, but it lacks humor. It just seems like an ironic gesture, something dark and unamused.

After a second of glaring at the floor, he finally speaks. "They don't get to treat you that way! They just don't!" He looks away, like an angry child. George would think of it as cute if he wasn't so annoyed.

"Getting into a fistfight with them isn't gonna solve anything!" George says. "It's just gonna make them even angrier!" And it's true. Those three guys had been bugging at them since they went public almost a year ago, murmuring under their breaths whenever they held hands, and going as far as to leave notes with insults on their lockers after lunch breaks. It was distasteful, and childish, honestly, not to mention basic and uncreative. 

Dream didn't care much, and George has learnt to stop caring too, no matter how hard it has been for him. But this time, they had taken it too far, approaching them as they sat on a bench in the park, and causing a scene.

One of them had started calling Dream a slur. George felt his blood boil inside his veins, ready to speak up, to shout at them back. But Dream looked at him softly, and squeezed his hand. George got the message immediately. _It's not worth our time. It’s okay._

_But that was only the start of the problem._

The moment one of them had tried to even so much as glance at George, Dream was out of his seat and punching the guy in the face. The punch made a sound that could only be described as _very painful, _and in a second, things got ugly. -of course, they won the fight nonetheless.-__

__He can't help the laugh that leaves his lips at the memory though. Dream stays silent for a second, before bursting into a laugh akin to a rumble, making his chest and his shoulders shake.  
He leans forward, and lays his forehead against George's shoulder, who just leans further into the touch as they both laugh together._ _

__A few seconds after the high, they both take a breath, still against each other._ _

__" _Oh my god,_ they were so angry." Dream manages to wheeze out after a while._ _

__"They really weren't expecting you to throw a punch at one of them."_ _

__Dream scoffs. "Don't sell yourself short _sweetheart_ " he mocks fondly. George huffs out a breath that sounds like a guffaw more than anything. "You weren't so bad yourself."_ _

__"Oh my god, shut up-"_ _

__"You called him a _bloody arsehole!_ " he exclaims in disbelief. George flushes, but even so, a smile is painting his features. "That's the most British I've heard you in months!"_ _

__"He punched you! What other thing was I supposed to do?"_ _

__Dream's gasping for air by the time they've stopped giggling. He leans back, and meets George's eyes, with the widest, brightest grin he only reserves for this kind of moments.  
There's an odd shine in them, something George has seen many, many times before. Something sweet, and fond, and so filled to the brim with adoration he can only look away before he's smiling like a smitten idiot -he already is-._ _

__"He punched me… so you punched him back." He says softly, with a certain tone. A tone filled with fluffiness and breathlessness and something else George can't quite decipher, but he just knows it makes his body tingly and warm, bubbling with love. He can feel it spill out from his heart, and fill each of his limbs, wrapping around him, like a cloak._ _

__"I did." He accepts proudly. "I did punch him after he punched you." He smiles. "He didn't have the right to lay a hand on you."_ _

__It was something stupid. Something he wouldn't have done under any other circumstance, but he regrets nothing._ _

__George leans in, and their foreheads touch, gentle and loving, with utter gentleness and joy.  
They're breathing the same air, breathing each other in. George can smell the faint scent of Dream's lavender shampoo, and it's intoxicating. It leaves him doubtful, scared to exhale too loudly, scared to break whatever they're feeling, whatever has them under this strange hypnosis, hyper focused on eachother, and nothing else._ _

__Dream looks at him with half lidded eyes. George stares at each and every one of his freckles. He's counted them before. They’re forty-three.  
But he never gets tired of laying his eyes on the sunkissed skin. He wants to bring his hand up and touch them, each of them. He thinks he could draw them onto paper by memory, each one of their place on Dream's cheeks, creating constellations far more beautiful than any stars that could shine in the night sky._ _

__Their noses touch now, bump into each other in a sweet Inuit kiss, tender and slow.  
"My knuckles hurt…" Dream whispers, so low George can barely catch it, with the beating of his heart ringing in his ears, and the buzzing of his skin tampering with his brain, leaving him unable to think of anything. Anything that isn't _Dream, Dream, Dream… _____

____Dream’s face, the smile he wears proudly, beautiful, like a beam of light. Dream’s hands, soft against his own, cold fingers that dance against his own. Dream’s lips, hurt, but still, beautiful and so appealing. George wants to kiss them. Every hour of every day._ _ _ _

____"Is that so?" He whispers back, just as softly.  
Their lips barely touch, ghosting, teasing, leaving electricity zapping through them, tingling, and he aches. He aches with love, with want, with affection and with so much, so much happiness. He feels complete, a weight on his chest that should feel bad, but it's glorious, and warm, and _home.__ _ _ _

____"Mhm." Dream hums, slightly nodding with his head._ _ _ _

____"I'll kiss them better then." George offers, breathless and relaxed.  
He blindly feels around for Dream's hand, softly looking for his fingertips, until he can feel them against his own.  
They barely touch, and George feels like he floats, as if he's made of nothing but light and air, and honey, and he intertwines his fingers with Dream's. It's wonderful. Their hands were made for eachother, like puzzle pieces, he decides._ _ _ _

____George brings their connected hands up, with gentle movements, and a rumble in his chest, fuzzy and warm, and he drowns. Drowns in love. He drowns in Dream's light.  
He takes his time, because there's no rush, and a passing minute feels like a dizzying second, the want and desperation clawing at him, and yet like the familiarity and gentleness of a lifetime, of eternity. It's comforting._ _ _ _

____He leans back slightly, eyes half open, and feels delighted when Dream chases after the feeling of the warmth they radiate off each other, of the feel of their faces so close.  
He lets out a breath of amusement, one that would have been a chuckle, if he wasn't lacking so much air from his lungs, if he could breathe normally._ _ _ _

____He ghosts his lips over Dream's knuckles next.  
Dream should feel the sting of pain, the burn at the sensation of George's lips against his raw skin, but he can only feel a delicious tingle traveling from his hands, his fingers, to his arms, his chest. To his heart and his soul, and every single crease of his body. He shudders._ _ _ _

____"Y'know what?" He mumbles._ _ _ _

____"What?" George smiles against his hand._ _ _ _

____"My lip is hurting really bad too."_ _ _ _

____" _Ah. _" he speaks, so quietly. "Is that so?" Dream nods.___ _ _ _

______He knows George is laughing.  
He feels it, more than listens to him. He can feel his shoulders shake under the soft grip of his free hand in them, and the smile George presses against his fingertips. Dream smiles too. He would give anything to make George happy, to hear his voice ooze with joy, dripping from his lips like syrup._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Very well then. I'll have to kiss it better too." George reasons with a hum. His eyes are open, staring at Dream's with so much sweetness he can taste it in his mouth, like warm milk with sugar._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Hm. I guess you'll _have to. _"___ _ _ _ _ _

________Their faces get closer again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Yeah. I have no choice" George laughs. Dream can feel his breath against his lips. "Poor little me."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Their noses touch. Their voices are just hushed out air, so much so, that the sound of their breathing is louder than their words, as their lips barely touch._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Poor little you."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________George leans in further, at last closing the few centimeters that separate them.  
He hovers over Dream's lower lip, before placing a gentle peck on top of the wound, in the same soft and gentle manner he did with his knuckles._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________An inexplicable warmth settles on his stomach. It’s butterflies, he knows, because he’s been feeling them since the day he laid his eyes upon Dream. They fly all around his belly, their small, beautiful wings flapping.  
Each day he wakes up thinking the butterflies can’t get any stronger, his love can’t grow any more than it has already. He can’t possibly feel happier than he feels right now, it can’t be possible for a human to feel that much happiness travel through their body._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Each day, he sees Dream smile, listens to the melody that is his laugh, gazes into his eyes, kisses his lips. He’s proved wrong. Each passing day, his love only grows, and grows._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He pulls apart, just enough to gaze at Dream's face. He melts at the sight.  
His eyes are closed, his eyelids shaking.  
He applies no pressure to close them though, so it must just be the eagerness, and the feeling of nervous excitement that George can feel running through his own veins as well. He smiles._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"Are you feeling better?"  
Dream pretends to think it over, as if he was fumbling with the question, turning it around his fingers, fiddling with it. After a second, he finally answers._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"No, still hurting."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________George throws his head back and laughs, leaning back in.  
He kisses him breathless, drinks the words from his mouth, gets drunk off them, off Dream's light. He could never get tired of this._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________They part not long after, their breaths laboured, filling the room. They smile at each other._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"What about now?" George questions._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________Dream brings his hand up to caress George's face, cups it, runs his thumb over the skin in an affectionate manner._  
He allows himself the privilege of lowering it to his neck, feeling the warm, flushed skin beneath his fingers. George exhales, and leans into the touch.  
Finally, he settles his hand between his collarbone and his shoulder. He runs his cold finger over the bone. He relishes on the feeling of goosebumps that break through George's skin. 

________"Not sure. We could definitely try again though." Dream says._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________George can only smile, honest and sure, lovely and perfect, and everything Dream needs to be happy._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________"C'mere then." He instructs, chuckling, and pulling Dream in by the back of his neck._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Dream is a good liar, he thinks. His lips haven't hurt in minutes, more minutes than his fingers can count._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> im so sorry if this was bad, but thank you for readinf though ! english isnt my first language, and i literally wrote this at 2 am lmao
> 
> comments are always appreciated greatly ! I read and answer each and every one of them, and they make my day and make me feel like my writing maybe isnt as much of a dumpster fire as i think it is haha ! thank you !


End file.
